


Lost Track

by nicofox



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Headcanon, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03 Finale, Sad, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 17:42:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14218338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicofox/pseuds/nicofox
Summary: Ever since that day at the dam, Nick couldn't sleep well. Scratch that, he couldn't sleep at all during most nights. And when he did, his head was filled with nightmares about Troy. Maybe he just needed to say it out loud once for someone to hear.





	Lost Track

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psychosocialsuicide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychosocialsuicide/gifts).



> I wrote this based on a headcanon my friend Ana had. Just one out of the thousands we have about Nick and Troy. So this is for you, babe.  
> P.S.: This is the first time I'm posting anything here, so please bear with me. Also, english is not my first language, so there might be a few mistakes here and there - feel free to correct me or suggest anything in the comments. <3

It had been a long time since Nick actually knew the meaning of a night well rested. Hell, he didn’t even know what actual sleep meant at this point. He’d sometimes doze off for a few minutes – sometimes a full hour if he got lucky – but never for a whole night. And when he managed to get some sleep, he could barely rest. He would always have the same nightmare: _him_ , Madison, the hammer. The pain of reliving that moment every single night, his mind going over the same questions – “Why did I just stand there? Why didn’t I do something? Why couldn’t I save him?” –, was so unbearable that maybe staying awake and surviving off of cigarettes and caffeine, which he actually hated, seemed like the better option.

He thought that, by now, he would’ve lost track of how long it had been since he last got a good night sleep, but he hadn’t. How could he? When it was the last night he had with _him_ – and that’s something he would never lose track of. 

The weather was cold outside, but Nick was covered in sweat. It was pointless to try, but he still laid down in bed every night, hoping he’d get some rest. He never did. He’d roll around, he’d get anxious, he’d get fed up and finally just get out of bed, go to the balcony and light up a cigarette to calm himself down. It was the same every single night. It would be funny if it wasn’t sad. And he knew _exactly_ who’d laugh at him – then maybe warn him once more about his smokes. He smiled sadly to himself at that thought, while finally grabbing his pack of cigarettes, checking his pocket for his lighter and then opening the door to the balcony.

He took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke slowly, hanging his head low. He sighed. He was just so tired. Tired of feeling like this, tired of living this life and simply not being able to break from it all. He had the opportunity to just leave, _they_ had that opportunity and _goddammit_ , for once in his life, Troy just had to be the good guy at the wrong time. He remembered Troy so eager to help. He was handling things so aggressively, still being rude and, well, being Troy, but his heart was at the right place and Nick couldn’t help but smile at that thought.

He took another drag from his cigarette, sighing again afterwards. Then, he heard noise coming from inside the house. A door opening, a few steps around the place. Suddenly the whole situation felt too familiar. Nick standing in a balcony, smoking a cigarette, his back to the open door… It felt like his heart was going to rip through his chest; it was beating so fast his head hurt. His breath was unsteady now and he could barely hold his cigarette between his fingers, both his hands starting to shake a bit. It couldn’t be him. It just _couldn’t_. There was no way. 

He hears steps very close to the door and then they stop. Someone’s standing there now. He just can’t bring himself to turn around. He hangs his head low and tightly shuts his eyes, which are now burning and watery. He takes a deep breath and starts to turn.

“Hey.”

It’s not him.

“You okay?”

Of course it’s not him. How could it be him?

It’s Alicia. She has her arms crossed and a sad look on her face. Nick looks back at her, barely able to make up an appropriate answered for her question.

“I loved him.” It’s all he’s able to say, his voice trembling.

Alicia walks up to him and puts her arms around her brother, who fits his head between her neck and her shoulder, finally feeling the tiniest bit of comfort. She places her chin on his head.

“I know.” she says while stroking his hair softly.


End file.
